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Friday, February 12, 2010

It all started out with an offer to send some matchbooks "across the pond." Back in mid-January, Julian Baker--Matchbook Story's first international registrant and first "Pick of the Week" winner--kindly posted a glowing review of MBS on his excellent blog, Sybawrite (sybawrite.wordpress.com). Wanting to thank him and (let's be honest here) extend MBS's readership, I proposed sending some matchbooks to England. No problem, right? Wrong. My journey into the jungles of international haz mat shipping began with the United States Postal Service. I found this in section 344.21 of their Domestic Mailing Manual:"Strike–anywhere matches are nonmailable in international mail and domestic mail. Safety matches (book, card, or strike–on–box) are nonmailable in international and domestic mail via air transportation."

OK, I thought: No USPS; I'll try UPS. I tracked down their AIR FREIGHT TERMS AND CONDITIONS OF CONTRACT (“TERMS”) FOR UPS AIR FREIGHT SERVICES IN THE UNITED STATES, CANADA, AND INTERNATIONAL and found their No-No list, which didn't mention safety matches, but listed some other awfully unsavory characters. Some make sense, others don't (to me, anyway). These interested me the most:

Wow. I found the phone number for UPS's Hazardous Materials Support Center (1-800-554-9964, in case you need it) to ask about my matchbooks. The operator informed me that international law prohibits everyone (USPS, UPS, FedEx, et. al.) from shipping matchbooks via air transportation. "So the only way to get these matchbooks to England is on a boat?" I asked.

"Try freight forwarding," she said.

"What's that?" I said.

"Look in your phone book," she said, and hung up.

A Freight Forwarder, according to Wikipedia, is "a third party logistics provider [that], as a non asset-based provider, dispatches shipments via asset-based carriers or otherwise arranges space for those shipments. Carrier types include waterborne vessels, airplanes, trucks or railroads." Huh? No wonder the operator didn't want to explain. Basically, a freight forwarder is a shipping company that doesn't own/operate its own transportation fleet, staff, etc., but instead arranges with real shipping companies to get your stuff where it needs to go. Think of it as a travel agent for packages. My phone book listed Sky2C (get it?) as the freight forwarder in my area. I called and explained my situation. "OK. Lemme forward you to Maggie. She's the one who handles international shipping via the sea."

The line clicked over and started ringing. And ringing. And ringing. I left a message. A day later, Maggie returned my call about "shipping a mattress."

"I'd like to ship some matchbooks to England. Not a mattress. I understand that international law prohibits the transport of flammable solids via air."

"Yes, that's correct."

"So I need to get the matchbooks to England on a boat."

"How many?" she asked.

"Less than a cubic foot. A small package."

"To London?"

"Yep."

"That'll run you roughly $450. I'll have to check with customs on their procedure for shipping flammables, OK?"

"No, thank you. Don't bother." I hung up.

Alas, I was "dead in the water," so to speak. Sorry, Julian. I tried. We'll have to wait for that trans-Atlantic tunnel.

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

Monday, February 1, 2010

That bottle told the cops. I said she’d be back, but they’d found the body and then me, drinking her bubbly. What I’d shot was shot already, though, before the gun, back when she said, “Y’re dead’n’gone f’ me” and raised a fluted glass with that sharp-ass smile beneath the eyes I’d fallen into once.

--T.C. Marshall, Felton, CA

__________

TRAIN TRACKS

I could kill that bloody bird. I imagined tying it up and leaving it by the cat flap just like a villain trussing up a heroine and leaving her on the train tracks. When I returned I found it in three neat pieces. I stared at the cat flap. I was standing by the tracks. There was blood on my hands.

--Richard Ross, San Francisco, CA

__________

CENTRAL LOCALE

They left me at the place of impact. With the electrons swirling around the center, she yelled back "Must you always be so still when we crash."

--Fish Fishtofferson, Alameda, CA

__________

FOR YOUR GRANDMOTHER

Your grandmother does not like Calvino. She is letting you know this right now. “You’ve read Calvino?” you ask, frankly amazed. She has. In fact, unbeknownst to you, she started reading your copy while you were sitting right there at the kitchen table, line editing a story.

Pick of the Week

To Be

Blonde, demure hair was her favorite thing about herself, until it began to fall out from treatment. The glaring sheen of her unapologetic scalp shocked her. Gradually, she stopped hiding it beneath scarves and hats. This is what it looked like to be her now. This is what it looked like to be alive.